Ice Cream

1.

Sex, like ice cream or honey, is to be enjoyed.
You shouldn't wait
until ice cream has melted
to drip on toys and car seats,
having been enjoyed
at the cost of a lot of cleaning.

Not meaning, of course, sex is dirty,
it is there for fun,
for the sweetness it brings and the cooling.
Don’t fool around so long
that the pooling of melting ice cream
has burst all bounds.

2.

Or think about ice cream as sex, how the cone is filled
so full it drips over the brim;
or, if you're not prim,
how both ball and cone must be licked;

how hands get slick,
what with all the dripping and leaks;
how before you're done, your hands get glued to the mess
the cone becomes.

3.

But, really, what's at issue is pleasure,
not quick release
that is never an adequate measure,

but the slow increase
in melting that highlights the flavor
and the way light meets your eye
when you look in the mirror;

know the pleasure’s done
when the last of the ice cream is eaten
and the waffle crunched.

4.

What is it about ice cream and sex
that together come
in a simile of urgent enjoyment?

Or if joy remains
when once we are past the hot weather
and winter strains
any effort
we seek to sustain

what together came
in pursuit of simple pleasure
that ice cream brings
and asks nothing more
than leisure for the simple task

of rubbing two bodies together
in a kind of dance
that feeds on milk and sugar
to at last advance
to the frightening final parting
hoar frost demands.